Being There Offers A Thrill All Its Own

September 29, 1985|By Stephen Wigler of the Sentinel STaff

When Andrei Gavrilov walked onto the stage of Carr Performing Arts Centre in April, few of those in the audience had ever heard his name. Midway through his all-Chopin recital, most were convinced that he was one of the greatest pianists alive.

The strapping, 29-year-old Russian was a last-minute substitute for pianist Horacio Gutierrez in the final program of the Orlando Community Concert Association series. The 600 people who attended would cherish the memory of an astonishing performance, but three-fourths of the auditorium was empty. Too many people had failed to understand that in any cultural season there are unexpected delights, and that experiencing them requires patience and a willingness to explore.

Woody Allen once said he was convinced that 99 percent of success in life is merely showing up. At a time when technology allows us to bring a stupefying variety of performances into our own homes, on our own schedules, fewer people are showing up at theaters and concert halls.

For me, a performance in an auditorium filled with breathing human beings has a palpable excitement that a record, broadcast or videocassette simply never has. I need to be there; I want to show up. The magic of a live performance comes from the very perishability of the experience. It can be repeated only in memory.

Not showing up is especially common in Central Florida, where arts organizations, like the region itself, are struggling for identity. As a rationalization for staying home, potential audience members recount arguments that are by now familiar:

The arts in the South pale in comparison with those in Northeastern and Midwestern cities, with their rich cultural traditions. Central Florida lacks the kind of lively urban core that fosters a sense of community and invites participation. No arts facility has acoustics sophisticated enough to allow a concert to be heard as performed. Salaries for performers are too low to expect excellence.

These problems are formidable, but even if they were all solved tomorrow, the orchestras, museums and theater and dance companies would still need more Central Floridians to attend and sort the good from the bad.

Two conventional arguments for supporting the arts are that they make us better people and that they make our communities better places to live. I don't know about the first of those arguments, but I'm convinced by the second. I'd be the last person to say I was pleased with the arts in Central Florida, but the 1984-85 season left me with many wonderful memories that I would not have if I had been content to stay home with my records:

-- A performance of Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet suites in which the Florida Symphony Orchestra players and their associate conductor, Alfred Savia, sounded as if they were convinced that their lives hung on every note. -- A spring performance of wide-ranging repertory by the Southern Ballet Theatre in which the audience had the feeling that the company had at last graduated to a level of genuine professionalism.

-- A Rollins College production of the revue A Day in Hollywood/A Night in the Ukraine in which the student performers sang and tap-danced their talented hearts out. That evening brings a smile to my face whenever I remember it -- and I remember it often.

In a great performance, love pours from the stage. That can happen only when there is a loving audience to receive it.